


firestarters

by Magali_Dragon



Series: one shots and other drabbles [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family Fluff, Fire, Fluff and Humor, No Plot/Plotless, Parenthood, Targlings (ASoIaF), Wargs, in which jon and dany have their hands full, second chapter added for fun, targlings defending their mama, where season eight never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: Jon and Dany deal with the issues of parenting Targaryen children.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: one shots and other drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567705
Comments: 51
Kudos: 457





	1. they're your children Daenerys Targaryen

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff. Inspired by a funny post I saw on Tumblr. Legit zero plot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany deal with the issues of parenting Targaryen children.

Jon Snow was fairly certain he smelled smoke.

It was probably just the fire in the grate, he thought, mind clouded with the fogginess of sleep and the heavy sated lethargy of his muscles from an evening of wild lovemaking with his queen. He felt her move in his arms, her body emitting enough heat that he even wondered why they had a fire in their room. He would occasionally wake with her draped over him and furs draped over her and he was drenched in sweat, the need to run out into freezing cold in just his breeches consuming him. Although he never actually had done that.

He was thinking of doing it now though, the need for the cold breaking through his thoughts, feeling so warm it made him dizzy. He closed his eyes tighter to try to ward it off. He sniffed, nose wrinkling, the acrid smoke smell permeating through any thoughts he might continue to have of why his queen was so warm and he was in need of cold air. “Dany,” he mumbled into her silver hair, currently tangled over his face. He blew some of it from where it was stuck to his lips, coughing. “Dany.”

“Hmm,” she groaned into his shoulder. She rocked against him, sighing. “What?”

“You smell smoke?”

His voice was gravelly. She sighed hard into him again and shook her head. He wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. He nudged her with his knee, trying to move her off of him, but she snaked closer. “Dany,” he groaned. He tried to sit up, to see if perhaps something had gotten stuck in their hearth or if a log had fallen and was smothering out something else. He eventually had to push her off of him, a grunt her response as she burrowed back into the mattress.

When he turned, he came face to face with Ghost, red eyes shining in the darkness. He frowned at the wolf, who turned silently, padding from the bedroom. He knew to follow, throwing the covers back and grabbing for the loose breeches he usually slept in but earlier that evening Dany had removed them with all due haste the moment their door shut. He picked up a tunic, slipping it over his head, shivering as the chilly air in the corridor hit his sweat-slicked skin.

The acrid smoke smell grew stronger as Ghost led him to the set of chambers beside his and Dany’s. He pushed through the door quickly, coughing against the sudden explosion of ash and flame in his vision. He only saw the fire in the center of the room, a series of furs, pillows, and the new draperies that Dany had installed earlier that week used as the kindling.

“Fuck!” he cursed, rushing to the shutters and throwing them open, turning to grab hold of the washbasin still full of water on the dresser by the bedside. He dumped it onto the flames, which doused most of them, and then grabbed hold of the remaining furs from the bed in the corner, smothering out what he could.

All that was left was a few charred bits of the furnishings and some weak flames still gathered here and there in the makeshift pit. He gaped at it and then lifted his face to stare at Dany, who was in the doorway, disappointment on her stern face. He dropped the now-ruined furs, staring at the two little faces peering up at them both, completely unapologetic.

The fire from the heart—where it was supposed to be—coupled with the remaining fire in the center of the room lit up Dany’s face, the orange and red flickering over her pale skin, violet eyes sharp as she surveyed the damage and the scene before her. Her hands were at her sides, fingers digging back into her palms. “What is this?” she murmured.

The one who no doubt started it simply glanced sideways. “It was Daenys,” she said.

Daenys, the little purple and silver dragon, skittered about the floor from where she had hidden under the bed, screeching in protest. Her clutchmate, a bronze with a tint of red to his scales, scampered out as well, wings aloft. He swept down to grab hold of him, stroking Aegorax’s head. He shook his head slightly, attempting to convey disappointment and sternness, but also pressing his lips together in a tight line and clamping his tongue between his teeth to keep from laughing or smiling.

It was incredibly difficult, the way their daughter blinked, her silver curls messy around her head, violet eyes the image of her mother’s, and her face streaked with a bit of ash. She smiled, blinking those giant eyes that held so much sway over him. He would allow her mother to handle this punishment. He honestly thought it was funny; she’d never have actually burned down the keep and he was quite sure he knew what prompted this little episode.

They’d had a few in the past. One when she was just a babe in her crib. That had been a sight, waking up to see a baby sitting in front of fire, having dragged the log from the hearth to her bed, seeking the warmth. He wondered how other parents did it, trying to keep up with children who weren’t attracted to fire and heat in the way his little fire princess was. He was sure he was one of the hardest working parents there were, trying to keep a realm together while also trying to keep the castle from burning to the ground.

He glanced at Dany again, who had furrowed her brow, her lips pursed. “We are very disappointed,” he chose to say, while Dany thought about what to do. He frowned. “Those were new draperies.”

Their princess glanced at the ruined drapes and lifted her sweet face back up. “I didn’t like them.”

Now he really tried not to laugh. He looked at Dany again. She took a deep breath and gazed at the fire, before turning to face the princess. “We have discussed this several times Rhae. No setting fires in the house.”

“But I just wanted…”

“Yes, I know,” Dany said, interrupting. She sighed, sympathetic. “I know you want to be just like me, but darling I do not set fires in the house just to walk through them, you know this.”

Rhae stuck her lower lip out, protesting. “But Momma, Daenys…”

“Daenys does not set fires unless you tell her to.” Dany’s eyes flashed, her voice cool, coming upon the next piece of the puzzle as they figured out what happened in the nursery. “Are you telling her to?”

He saw the wheels turning in Rhae’s mind, the little girl wondering if she should go ahead and lie that she didn’t give the command or maybe try to find an alternative answer. She opened her mouth to speak when the so-far silent child beside her threw his arms into the air, giggling and shouting. “ _Dwah-cah-wis!_ ”

It was enough, the intention clear, and he yelped when Aegorax let out a stream of fire, thankfully nothing in its path to catch. He grabbed for the baby dragon’s maw, closing his jaws quickly, before they had another situation on their hands. He sighed. “Oh Aemon.”

Aemon giggled, rolling towards the fires. “Ooh,” he cooed, hand going to the flames. Nothing happened, he simply giggled again and rolled back, satisfied at whatever feeling he’d felt when the touched at the fire.

Dany folded her hands before her, lifting her chin. “The dragons will sleep with us until you can learn that you are not to command them to set fires within the keep. Or until I tell you,” she quickly amended. She gestured to the ruined bedding and drapes. “And we never burn our bedding, it is not proper kindling. Now, I know you want to be like me, but remember…”

“No fire in the house,” Rhae muttered, eyes downcast. She sniffed. “Do they have to sleep with you?”

Gods I hope not, he thought, removing his finger from where Aegorax was trying to bite it. He let Dany handle that one too, assuring Rhae that the dragons would be fine sleeping in the other chambers with the remaining dragon egg. Daenys tried to chew on his bare feet and he stepped aside, bumping into Ghost, who he swore rolled his red eyes and turned, leaving the chaos in the nursery.

They removed the ruined bedding and set the dragons in their other rooms, where they could run around all evening and not bother anyone. There was nothing in the room that could catch fire either, thankfully. He returned to the nursery, where Dany was putting Rhae back into her bed, this time with clean bedding. “But I want to be just like you Momma,” Rhae said.

“And you are my love, just not in the middle of the night in your bedroom.”

“But you walked into the fire yesterday.”

“Yes, that was for business, darling.” It was to prove to some rather foolish Essosi noblemen that she was in fact, Daenerys the Unburnt, a title she earned for a reason and hadn’t just made up in her quest to take back the Seven Kingdoms. He _knew_ they shouldn’t have had Rhae present. He would tell Dany that, but he wasn’t stupid.

Else he might be the one being put in the flames.

He picked up Aemon and placed him back into his crib, the toddler chattering in Valyrian. He kissed the top of his dark curls. “Go to bed,” he ordered.

“Ooh,” Aemon cooed again, peering through the bars of the crib to smile at the flames. “ _Dwah-cah-wis._ ”

“No,” Dany said, firm. “We do not say that word. That is an _adult_ word! Only Momma can say it!"

Aemon repeated it several times, until he yawned, sleep overtaking him. Rhae had already passed out, holding onto her wolf toy, which had escaped any damage from fire. They both adjusted the heavy iron grate in front of the hearth. He did not fancy waking up to find Aemon sitting in it.

Jon shuddered, that had been an interesting evening back in Winterfell, the maids screaming at the sight of the baby just sitting in fire, laughing and playing with his toes as flames licked all around him. He kissed both his children, made a note to give several extra dragons to the maids who would have to clean up the ash in the center of the room, and followed Dany out of the nursery and to their rooms.

He sighed, closing the door. Ghost and the two direwolf pups that belonged to the children were huddled in the corner, watching them warily. “No fire here,” he told them.

Dany flicked her fingers through the candles that were lined atop the dresser, sighing. “Sometimes I hear Gilly complain about how her children cry at night because they have bad dreams.” She sighed. “Is it wrong that I wish that was my children?”

“No.” He kissed the top of her head, cuddling her against him. She smiled, lifting her face up and shutting her eyes, accepting the kisses he rained on her forehead and cheeks, before dropping them to her lips. He smiled against them. “You know they could have been wargs.”

“Yes, waking up to them with their eyes all white would be scarier.”

He stared at her a moment. “What?”

Dany frowned. “Well yes, I think it would be terrifying to see my child with his eyes all white as he’s off running through the forest with the wolves.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why?”

He gaped. “But seeing them starting fires to be like you or sitting in the hearth isn’t scary?”

She shook her head, shrugging. “No. They’re Targaryens. Fire cannot burn a dragon.”

He rolled his eyes, kissing her again. “You scare me Dany.”

She giggled, climbing into the bed with him, moving to drape herself across his chest again. He settled back into the pillows, accepting the fact that he would just have to sleep in an over-hot bed. Especially if it meant that she was in it. She rested her head on his chest, yawning. “Go to sleep Jon. They don’t set fires every single night.”

No, just every few nights, he wanted to say, but kept his mouth closed. He closed his eyes and settled back to sleep.

A few nights later, he woke up not to smoke, but to Dany screaming, running in sobbing as she held Aemon, his eyes white and his black wolf Ember barking and running around, tail wagging furiously, ignoring her attempts to get him to come back as she shouted for him to _"Do something Jon!"_

 _"_ What do you want me to do?" he laughed.

"You're the warg, fix it!"

So he'd managed to coax Aemon back from Ember, just for the toddler to close his eyes and return back to his wolf. Dany merely muttered how this was not fair that other parents didn't have to deal with this type of thing.

He knew it was wrong, but he chuckled. “So scary huh?” Now she knew how he felt when he found their children sitting in and setting fires.

She smacked him. “Oh shut up!”

In the chaos, neither of them saw Rhae free Daenys from the other chambers, carrying her dragon and taking off down the corridor, shouting “Dracarys!” and setting fire to the new chairs that Tyrion had installed in the Small Council chambers. She also didn’t seem to realize that Tyrion was in one of them, their Hand of the Queen taking off down the hall shouting for the Queen to control her child.

Jon was secretly glad, he had really hated those chairs.

**fin.**


	2. they're your children Jon Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos reigns in the Targaryen household with dragon-wolf children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sense more drama brewing in the fandom, so here's my attempt to distract. Also trying to get the creative juices back as I'm in writer's block on my Jon Goes East fic and I've started another long fic (WWII AU) that is draining me a bit too.
> 
> No promises on updates to the other fic anytime soon (mayyyyybe next week?)
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy the crack here.

Someone—or something—was watching them.

Dany managed to break away from the deep, soul-rending kiss her lovely husband was bestowing on her— rather reluctantly—her skirt still bunched around her waist as he leaned her back over the desk in her private office chambers. He pouted, trying to kiss her again, but she moved her head to the side, glancing around his shoulder, studying the bright brown eyes of the black wolf that stared at her. She frowned, trying to determine who was inside the wolf. “Hello,” she greeted the creature.

The wolf wagged his tail, barking.

It forced Jon to let go of her, startled, turning around and glaring. "Ember," he chastised. He waved to the door, ordering the wolf off. "Go away."

She squinted, unable to tell the difference if it was her son or the true wolf, but Jon could always tell. She supposed it was a warg thing. It was not something she understood, she preferred it when the children played with fire, as she could sympathize with their need to be near the heat and did not fear it when they wanted to just dance around in the flames. It was the white-eyed skill her son had that frightened her the most. She shuddered, remembering the first time she'd found him in his crib like that, screaming for Jon, wanting him to fix it. 

He also terrified her when she would wake up in the night and he was stiff as a board beside her, eyes white, unable to hear her or move when she shook him. He had greater control over it now, but Aemon was still a child and still figuring out his capabilities. She poked Jon's ribs. "Make him come back," she ordered. She did not want her son to be wandering in his wolf form when they had guests visiting the keep.

“He’s not in there.” He sighed, the wolf suddenly bouncing up and down, spinning around. “Nevermind, now he is.”

He let go of her and she adjusted her dress, glancing at the door that now opened, Tyrion standing there, sheepishly ducking his head. "Apologies for interrupting Your Graces,” he muttered.

"You clearly are not sorry, or you would not have done it," Jon said, before she had a chance to snap at her Hand. She kissed Jon lightly in thanks, for he always knew just what to say when it counted, dropping her feet to the floor. _So much for an afternoon pick-me-up._ She would have to find something else to keep her mind occupied later when in the most boring meetings that entailed running a realm. 

Jon walked over to the wolf, kneeling to his height, staring into the great animal's dark eyes. He squinted again, voice firm and warning. "Aemon. Come out now.”

The wolf blinked and turned tail, rushing off, not long later they could hear their son babbling from the other room, shouting "Ber! Ber!" In reference to 'Ember', she suspected, the wolf gone to his companion. She sighed, shaking her head. "How'd you know it was him?"

"Just do."

She waved her hand. "Go get him, else he might barge into our meeting with the Dragon’s Bay delegation." She supposed that was why Jon had rushed her into her office, after the arrival ceremony for the new heads of the Dragon's Bay cities. They had arrived last night, their ship anchoring in Blackwater Bay, but she was not sure who all they had sent until that morning, and of course, there he was, her former lover there to represent the Second Sons, who still maintained security control over the cities. She had greeted him as she would any old ally she had not seen in years, before introducing her husband and king. Daario had not been pleased to find she was married, which she anticipated.

And Jon's jealousy had positively _delighted_ her, she was not ashamed to say, as he swept her from the keep following the morning meetings. Most women might find it irritating or annoying, but she quite liked it when Jon allowed himself a moment to be a simple man, when he tapped into his baser urges. Besides, she so rarely saw possessive Jon and that was when his dragonwolf came out to play. It drove her wild. She was quite looking forward to it until their son interrupted. And now Tyrion, she thought with a scowl, looking to her Hand. "Yes?" she asked.

"There's a situation."

"What kind of situation?"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, clearly tired. "A Rhae situation."

_Well shit._ She didn’t even have a chance to ask what had happened with her daughter, when Jon bellowed from the other room. "Dany! The dragons are gone!"

Of course they were gone.

"Fuck," she cursed, storming by Tyrion and into the hall, finding Jon holding Aemon, his eyes white again as he flopped boneless in his father's arms, the wolf shooting off down the corridor, followed quickly by Winter, Rhae's wolf, and Ghost, who was nipping at them. If Ghost was up and moving, she knew she didn't want to know what Rhae had gotten into. She hurried by, seeing Aemon's eyes return purple, his chubby hands reaching out beyond his father for one of the torches in the corridors.

"No," Jon told him.

It didn't matter, she thought, grateful she wore her riding leathers under her coat dress, the skirts loosely whipping about her as she followed the white wolf leading them to gods only knew what. She broke around through the various doorways and odd passages that sometimes led to nowhere—thanks Maegor for that one—before they emerged into the dry moat beside the steps leading down from the Holdfast. They had placed their guests in chambers within the Holdfast, which had been Tyrion's idea and now she knew he was regretting it.

Aemon scrambled out of Jon's arms the moment they got outside, his fat legs hurrying him towards Ember, who panted by one of the braziers. She paid no mind when her son climbed over his wolf and tumbled headfirst into the brazier, laughing the entire time. It was probably the most tame thing that was occurring in that moment.

" _Dorzalty_!" one of the Essosi yelled in High Valyrian—a noble from Yunkai—pointing to her son, shouting that he was unburnt. "He does not burn!"

"She is the Unburnt, you stupid fool," one of the Astaporians chastised—this one a former slave. He bowed before her, sweeping his arm forward in submission. "Your Grace." He shuffled his robes around, gesturing to the sight before them. "Your daughter was kindly showing us your new dragons."

_Oh dear._

The small delegation had grown in size, all watching as Rhae flitted about in several fires she had set in the yard, her black coat dress hardly smoking, while her brother just babbled happily in the brazier. She was holding Daenys, the dragon now the size of a small dog, while Aegorax flew in circles about them, not coming down even as Jon deftly tried to snatch him up. She smacked her hand to her forehead. _Gods._ "Rhae," she said, teeth grit. "Please stop that now."

"But Momma, I want to show them we are Unburnt."

"A good show, Princess, but..." Tyrion winced at the clapping from the audience when Rhae ran through another fire. "Now is not the time."

"Of course your daughter is the Unburnt as well," a voice said beside her, silky-smooth. Daario sidled up next to her, smiling down like they had a secret between them. "Your Grace."

She put her hands on her hips, not wanting to have to punish her daughter in front of visiting guests. Especially when she was trying to get the Dragon's Bay cities she used to rule as Queen to join her in taking over New Ghis, the slavers there causing great disturbances to the Westerosi ships that tried to pass through on their trading missions. She scowled at Daario. She was not in the mood for his antics. "Not now Daario."

"We haven't had a chance to speak privately."

_Nor will we._

Jon managed to get hold of Aegorax, walking over to them. "Daario," he said, voice cool. He narrowed his eyes. "Shouldn't you all be in a meeting, waiting for the Queen?"

"Well we were drawn out by this...amusing sight," Daario said, gesturing to Rhae, who was now doing cartwheels through the fire, preening at the attention she was receiving. She let go of Daenys, who flew over, landing on Jon's shoulder. Daario wrinkled his nose. "The dragons come to you as well, I see."

She puffed her chest out a bit, looping her arm through her husband's. Now it was time for _her_ possessive side. "My husband is the Blood of Old Valyria too, Daario Naharis, he is also a dragon." Her eyes lifted to the skies, where her sons all circled, screeching down at them, the little dragons beating their wings, wishing to join their big brothers but too little to get far beyond the roof of the stables. She released Jon and clapped her hands at her daughter, Rhae continuing to happily skip through the fires. "Alright Rhaella, that's quite enough, your show is over."

Her daughter made a face at the use of her full name—always a sign that the game was over—stopping in the middle of one of the fires, bowing before everyone and then doing a perfect curtsy, jumping from the flames before her dress truly did catch fire.

The Essosi applauded, chattering among themselves, although some were standing off, trying to hide how frightened they were of what she imagined they thought a _demon_ was. Sometimes she couldn't disagree, as much as she adored her children and would burn alive anyone who dared look at them funny. While the Essosi were distracted, she took her daughter's hand, pleasantly warm from the fires, leading her over to where Tyrion looked relieved that the show had ended. "Hi Tyrion," Rhae cooed, waving at him. She pointed to the fires, which a few of the stablehands were dousing. "Did you see me?"

"I did, you really should be more careful."

Rhae smirked, arching one of her silver brows. "I am a dragon." She poked at him. "I cannot burn." Her eyes went rather wild all of a sudden, flashing vibrant purple. Her voice dropped, rather chilling. “But you will one day.” Tyrion gulped. She rolled her eyes—Rhae was always threatening to burn people one day, they would have to work on that.

She knelt to Rhae’s height, rubbing her thumb over some ash that streaked her rosy cheek. She planned to tell Rhae to please take the dragons back to their room, where they could run about unwatched, when Jon immediately turned, Ember having walked over to him and nudging his hand. “Jon?” she asked, forgetting to refer to him as Aegon in the company of the Essosi. She frowned. “Everything alright?” 

"Where's Aemon?" he asked, distracted by the dragons in his arms. He spun, seeing the brazier empty where there son had been. He glanced at Ember, who was running in circles chasing his tail. He pushed one of the dragons to Rhae and the other to her, striding after Ghost, who sniffed at the ground, leading him to wherever Aemon had wandered. 

She fought with Aegorax—for one of her children he was very used to Jon’s orders and not hers—who was trying to fly after her husband, when Rhae scowled at Daario. “I don’t like you,” her daughter announced. She stroked Daenys’s head, Winter padding over, the pale gray and white direwolf as tall as the little girl. She pointed. “Get him Winter!”

Winter yawned, falling back onto her haunches to scratch her ears. Daenys hissed, flapping her wings. Daario frowned, smiling. “You are feisty, but of course you would be, with a conqueror for a mother.”

“I am a dragon.”

“So I have heard.”

“I’ll burn you,” Rhae said.

She waved her hand at her daughter. “Not now Rhae, we have to find Aemon.”

They walked off towards the throne room, to her irritation Daario following, still amused by her daughter. He had his hands behind his back, studying her. “Do you even know how to order a dragon?” he asked. He frowned. “Aren’t you a bit short?”

Rhae scowled. “I can order a dragon!”

“Rhae,” she warned. 

“I wasn’t going to say _that_ word.”

“Good, you know it’s a no-no word.” They had successfully managed to get the children to stop saying _dracarys_ the same way they had managed to get Rhae to stop saying the word _fuck_ after she’d spent a long period of time in the care of Tormund the last time they’d gone up to visit the Free Folk beyond the Wall. She strode ahead, seeing Jon enter the throne room. 

dThere was no more Iron Throne, in its place a bench forged from the melted swords their ancestor had rendered into a chair. It was for them both, wide enough even for the children to sit upon for when they were older and would attend court to learn the ways of the kingdom. A bench also brought them to the same height as their subjects, which she thought was very important. She did not want to be _above_ anyone. 

She saw Aemon crawling around the base of the iron bench, chattering to himself in the combination of Common Tongue, High Valyrian, and Dothraki he preferred, since all three languages were used interchangeably with him. He popped his silver head above the bench, waving at her. “ _Mai_!” he shouted. 

“Hello sweetling,” she called to him, hurrying to lift him up before he made his way into the great braziers that burned along the newly installed dragonglass pathway to the bench. She picked him up, just in time for Jon to set down Aegorax, who scuttled along the length of the bench, wings aloft, screeching, almost chastising Aemon for running off. The wolves arrived next, poor Ghost bringing up the rear, clearly put out that he had to be the one to shepherd them all around.

Ember bounced after Aemon, nipping at the babe’s little breeches. He leaned around her legs, ears flattening and legs bracing on the slippery floor, a low growl in the back of his throat when Daario approached. She glanced quickly to Aemon, whose eyes remained their normal indigo, as he babbled in his mixture of languages. She lightly touched Ember’s head, the wolf backing down just a tad, his ears lifting only slightly. 

“So this is the one causing all the drama,” Daario commented, reaching to tweak Aemon’s nose, but her son let out a low growl, like a wolf, and then his eyes went white. Daario yelped, surprised at the action, darting back when Ember made a quick movement towards him. “What in the…”

She smirked. “It’s a family thing.” _Apparently._

“But his eyes…”

“He’ll be fine.” No sooner had she said it did Aemon’s eyes return white and he reached behind her for Jon, who took his son, holding him on his hip. She folded her hands before her. Now that all the wolves, dragons, and children were in one place, she figured that was a success. _To get them back to their rooms was another story._ “Daario is there anything else I can assist you with at this time? I am afraid I must attend to my family.”

He stepped towards her, shooting a glare at Jon, who merely narrowed his eyes to slits. “I wanted to speak with you… _privately._ ”

She sniffed. “I do not think we have anything to say to each other that cannot be said in front of my husband or advisers, Daario.” 

“Well I do.”

“You what?” Jon demanded. 

Daario shot him a smirk, his thumbs hooked in his belt. “I was speaking with my queen. We had many… _private_ conversations.” He glanced at the dragons and wolves and children surrounding them. He chuckled. “Without the distraction of animals and children.” He smiled at her. “Remember those _Your Grace_?” He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Then again, you were often… _exhausted_ afterward. Courtesy of my talents.”

Before she could put Daario in his place, Jon shot a remark she could not even believe came from him, her normally quiet wolf. Then again, he would occasionally remind her of the dark wit of the dragon that lay beneath the surface. “Or she was simply forgetting…something she does not do with me.” He chuckled. “I also have… _talents_.” 

That he did. Talents that the mere mention of had heat creeping up the back of her neck in memory. She rolled her eyes; she did not want to be in the middle of a dick-measuring contest between the two of them. “Daario, please leave before I have your tongue for your insolence. _Aegon_ …knock it off.”

Her husband grit his teeth. “I will when he listens to _his queen._ ”

“Aegon? Does she call you Egg?”  
Jon opened his mouth to say something else, but before even _she_ could comment, Rhae jumped from behind a pillar, pointing her finger at Daario, her wolf Winter beside her. “Winter get him! He’s being mean!”

Except Winter did not move, probably because she was distracted by the sudden shout from Aemon, who had been _too_ quiet when she looked back on the situation. He laughed, arms throwing into the air, Aegorax floating above them, flapping his wings while Daenys was trying to escape the chaos. Aegorax was never one to ignore a command and when Aemon shouted, he followed suit. 

“ _Dwah-cah-wis!_ ”

Her eyes widened, barely able to knock Daario to the side to prevent him from getting the brunt of the fire that Aegorax released, the dragon simply following the command he’d learned as a tiny hatchling. The orange heat exploded in the throne room, catching most of Daario’s cape and some of his hair, singing at his tunic as he cried out in pain and surprise. 

Rhae laughed, clapping her eyes as Jon grabbed for Aemon, covering his mouth with his hand and Aegorax flapped about the roof of the throne room, screeching in success. She was mortified, staring at Daario, half of him smoking as he stared at her in horror. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh…my…Daario I am so…”

He glared at Aemon. “That… _thing_.”

The sound of Drogon outside, circling the keep, boomed through the entire hall, almost shaking the foundation, drawn and reacting to the ire inside of her at the mention of her son as a _thing._ She had to be held back by Jon, who had set Aemon onto the floor, Rhae attending to her brother as she laughed, saying something about how funny it was that he burned someone who was being mean to their mother. _What a good Targaryen you are Aemon!_

They would need to have another conversation about how not to burn people, but right now Dany was raging, shouting at Daario to get the seven hells out of her keep and he did so, looking up in fear as dust rattled loose from the ceiling when Drogon let out another roar of anger, joined by his brothers. She heard the shouts from outside, turning in time to see Davos and Tyrion rushing in, questions in their eyes. 

“Did you burn Daario Naharis?” Tyrion demanded.

Davos chimed in. “Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Pompous prick.”

Tyrion glared at his co-Hand. “Your Grace, I know he is frustrating and no doubt trying to get a rise out of you but…”

“I didn’t do it,” she said. 

They looked at her. “I thought you would do it,” Davos said, nodding to Jon, who was wrestling holding Aemon, the babe’s eyes white again as Ember ran off with the other wolves, chasing Ghost who was just trying to escape to freedom. 

Jon shook his head, chuckling. “No, I would have just run him through with Longclaw.”

“Well I owe Grey Worm twenty silvers.”

Her eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”

“Uh…nothing Your Grace,” Davos stammered. 

She was more irritated that Grey Worm had been gambling. She did not ask anything else, rolling her eyes and turning away from the advisers, who went off to deal with the idea that a member of a foreign delegation had just been burned by dragonfire. Something told her the rest of the Essosi delegation would not be too disturbed, if Daario was as annoying to them as he was to her of late. She went to Rhae, who was stroking Daenys, sitting on the bench. She plunked down next to her, sighing. “We need to talk about you not jumping into fires, young lady.”

Rhae chuckled. “Mai, you need to talk to Aemon about that word.” She smiled, positively sweet and innocent, purple eyes sparkling. “I at least know it is a bad word and don’t use it.”

Aemon clapped his hands, pulling on Jon’s hair. “Papa,” he cooed. He nuzzled his forehead. “Wolfie.”

Jon chuckled, kissing his son’s temple. “Maybe later.”

She sighed, gathering her family and left the throne room, returning to her chambers, exhausted and not looking forward to the upcoming meetings. She looked up when Jon entered, shaking her head. “They are your children Jon Snow.”

“ _My_ children? Your children.”

They both laughed, falling backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, painted with images of dragons and wolves. She closed her eyes, sighing, hoping sleep could come for a brief respite, when she heard a crash from down the corridor and Rhae shouting _I didn’t do it!_

“Jon, you handle this.” She poked him, but he didn’t move. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him, lying stiff as a board. She sighed and peeled back one of his eyelids, seeing the whites showing. She cursed, in time to see Ghost streaking down the corridor. She jumped to her feet. “Jon! Get back here! You handle this!”

Ember chased after and Winter not far behind. She checked on both children, their eyes white as well. She sighed, closing hers and pinching her nose, whispering. “Thank gods they don’t turn into dragons.”

_Not yet_ a tiny voice in the back of her mind said. She shuddered. _Gods help them when that day occurred._


End file.
